


I've seen the path that your eyes wander down

by uhpockuhlipz



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 04:06:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6268921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uhpockuhlipz/pseuds/uhpockuhlipz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>coffeeshop AU. Clarke is a barista at a local coffeeshop and Lexa goes there to buy coffee from her all the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've seen the path that your eyes wander down

**Author's Note:**

> This is also posted on tumblr. That was me. I didn't steal it. xo (I'm posting both parts in one chapter)

It’s almost embarrassing, how often she comes in here. She doesn’t even like coffee, really, and two cups of it from the same shop over the course of a six hour shift is definitely excessive (even if it’s only on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays).

Anya tells her she’s pathetic while she drinks the coffees that Lexa purchases but doesn’t want. And really, she isn’t wrong. It is a little pathetic, doing this just so she can talk to the cute girl who works the register those days.

Lexa honestly doesn’t have much experience with girls. She’d had a total of one girlfriend before, a girl named Costia, when she was like… Fourteen. And now she’s nineteen and pathetically crushing on a girl she doesn’t really know.

It’s Friday and the line is long. People need their fix to get through the last day of the week, Lexa supposes, but she’s impatient with them in any case. She needs her Friday fix too, after all.

Finally it’s her turn to order, and when she steps forward, Clarke smiles that same warm smile she always offers and grabs a cup. “Let me guess,” she teases as she scrawls ‘Lexa’ across the cup. “"Surprise me’.”

Lexa smiles slightly and nods. She never really orders anything specific since she doesn’t really drink it anyway. Clarke has taken to inventing her own concoctions for Lexa, a squeeze of this or a shot of that to add flavor. Lexa takes them all, and she sips them all right there, and she tells Clarke how good they are even when they aren’t because she likes that it makes Clarke smile.

“I’ve got a good surprise this time,” Clarke says, and she waves a coworker over to take the register while she makes Lexa’s drink. The coworker - Octavia - shoots Lexa a rather bland stare, but she doesn’t notice because she’s already following Clarke with her eyes as she slides her credit card.

As soon as she has her receipt, she follows Clarke down the line of the counter, watching her quietly as she mixes this and that. Clarke glances up occasionally and smiles, chatting amicably without really expecting much of a response.

At the pickup area of the counter, Clarke passes over the drink and waits expectantly. Lexa sips, surprised that it isn’t coffee, but a hot cider with… Caramel and cinnamon? She takes another sip and hums in pleasure. “This is delicious, Clarke, thank you.”

“Of course.” Clarke leans on the counter, head tilting as she studies Lexa. “You order a lot of coffee for someone who doesn’t like it.”

Lexa chokes on the cider and Clarke laughs, a genuine sound of amusement. “What do you mean?” she stammers, flushing. “Why would I purchase coffee if I had no intention of-”

“Because you’re cute,” Clarke interrupts. “And sweet. And I’m thinking a little shy.” Her smile grows a fraction. “And I think you want to ask me out, but you don’t know how.”

“I… What?”

“So I put my number on your cup. You should text. Here’s what it should say. Are you ready?” Lexa stares, then nods slowly. “It should say, ‘Clarke, I would really like to take you out for dinner and a movie on Saturday because I think you’re really hot and awesome and cool.’ Think you can manage that, Lexa?”

Lexa nods again, a little shell shocked.

Clarke flashes a grin. “Great. Then I’ve got to get back to work, but I’ll talk to you later.” She waves and heads back to the register, where Octavia rolls her eyes and says something to her that Lexa can’t hear. Clarke only punches her arm, boosts her smile, and rings up the next customer.

Lexa watches her another moment before looking down at her cup. It reads, ‘Don’t forget the hot and awesome and cool part. (; -Clarke’ followed by a phone number.

Lexa’s face splits into a grin and she heads back to the office sipping her cider.

(It’s totally worth Anya bitching the rest of the day about her lack of coffee.)

 

//

 

Lexa is an idiot. She’s had Clarke’s number in her phone for three days. Saturday came and went and she never texted. 

Maybe idiot isn’t a strong enough word.

She’s still frowning about it by the time she gets to work Monday morning and barely acknowledges Anya’s greeting as she slides into her desk chair. She sets her phone on the corner of her desk and stares at it, then tries to get to work. Instead, she picks up her phone every few minutes, opens a new text to Clarke, then closes it again before she can type everything.

The fifth or sixth time she does this, a paper ball smacks her in the side of the head. Lexa blinks, then glances up at Anya with that same frown in place. 

“Lexa, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Anya asks, and the irritation is what’s obvious, but Lexa knows there’s concern underneath. “You haven’t done shit this morning and you keep looking at your phone.” She leans forward. “Does it have something to do with that Clarke girl? Did she never text you back? I knew she was trouble. That bitch.”

Lexa frowns at her words, a firm expression of chastisement. “Don’t call her that. I just…” She glances at her phone again, spins it slowly with a fingertip atop the desk’s surface. “I never texted her,” she mumbles at last, half hoping Anya won’t hear her.

But Anya does. “ _What?_ You have been dying to ask this girl out for _months_ and she gives you an opening and you don’t fucking text her? You idiot!” 

“I know,” Lexa mumbles, sinking deeper into her chair. She can feel herself right on the edge of sulking and she hates that, but she can’t help it. She messed up her only chance to ask this girl out and she didn’t know what to–

“Hey!”

Anya snatches her phone off her desk and Lexa half rises, panicked, as if she might tackle the older girl to the ground. Anya merely puts her foot on the edge of Lexa’s chair and rolls her away again as she opens a new text. 

“’Hey Clarke,” she narrates as she types and Lexa renews her attempt to get the phone back, scrambling up from her chair with a lunge. Anya stretches her arm out, expertly tapping out the words with one hand while holding Lexa at bay with the other. “Sorry for not texting, I’m a moron. Maybe we can do that date thing this saturday because I think you’re – what was it she told you to write? Oh yeah – hot an awesome and cool. Lexa.” Anya smirks and passes the phone back to a flustered and tousled Lexa. “Sent.”

“Oh my God,” Lexa hisses, staring at her phone. And again, “Oh my God.” She drops heavily into her chair, feeling a little light-headed. And even as she stares at the sent text, a little ellipsis pops up in the response bubble and she loses her breath. “She’s _typing,”_ she whispers and beside her, Anya rolls her eyes. Lexa doesn’t see. She’s too intent on her phone screen.

_You aren’t a moron. I’d love to do the date thing this saturday. I think you’re hot and awesome and cool as well. And really cute. (; (Took you long enough)_

“She said yes.” Lexa feels like she’s floating and realizes belatedly that she’s grinning like an idiot at her phone. But she can’t seem to wipe the expression from her face.

Anya rolls her eyes again. “Of course she said yes, she’s the one who told you to ask her out,” she points out, but Lexa ignores her and finally gets to work, high on the knowledge that she has a date on Saturday with the girl she’s been crushing on for months.

 

//

 

By the time Lexa is knocking on Clarke’s apartment door, she’s a nervous wreck. She doesn’t know if she’s doing this dating thing right, doesn’t know if she’s made the right choices about the details for tonight. It’s strange because Lexa is usually good with details and she’s usually pretty cool under pressure, but with Clarke… With Clarke, she feels like she loses her polished exterior. 

She’s just so… and Lexa is so… 

The door is answered by a girl who is decidedly not Clarke, and for a moment, Lexa worries that she is at the wrong apartment. But then the girl lifts her eyebrows, smirks, and calls out, “Clarke, I think it’s for you.”

And there she is, joining the other girl at the door. “Thanks, Raven,” she says, and it’s clearly a dismissal, but Raven leans against the doorjamb with that smirk still in place.

“O said she was pretty. She wasn’t joking.” She looks Lexa up and down in obvious assessment and Lexa finds herself straightening, shoulders squaring, chin lifting a defiant fraction. She knows when she’s being judged and she’s determined that Clarke’s roommate doesn’t find her lacking. Raven meets her gaze, holds it, nods. “I _guess_ you’re good enough for her. So far.”

“Shut up, Raven, Jesus.” Clarke gives her roommate a shove and Raven laughs before finally walking away. Clarke rolls her eyes and then turn back to Lexa, and her smile is so warm that Lexa’s heart flutters. “Hi, Lexa,” she says softly.

“Hi, Clarke,” she returns. “You look… really pretty.” It’s a lame compliment, but Lexa means it wholeheartedly. It’s the first time she’s seen her outside of her work clothes and with her hair down and loose around her shoulders. She fights the urge to run her fingers through it. It seems a little early for all of that. “I was going to bring you flowers,” she finds herself saying, “But I thought maybe that would be a little old-fashioned or something so I… didn’t.”

Clarke’s smile softens. “You can bring them on our second date,” she reassures, and then she slips out the door so that they can leave.

 

//

 

They go to the movies first and that’s nice. Lexa learns that Clarke is the type to lean over and whisper commentary and she finds it both charming and alluring, with the way her lips tickle her ear and her breath warms her skin. It takes everything in her not to turn her head and feel those lips on her own instead. She has to keep reminding herself that it’s only the first date.

Dinner is nice too. Once Lexa lets herself relax, it goes really well. They talk about work and school and the usual date topics at first and then Clarke launches them into a game of Questions, which leads to some more interesting topics and a lot of laughter.

It is technically supposed to be the end of the date, but Lexa isn’t quite ready for it to end. It seems Clarke isn’t either because when Lexa hesitates after starting the car, she suggests they drive to the beach.

So they do, and they walk along the boardwalk side by side in comfortable silence. Clarke hugs her arms around herself and Lexa shrugs her coat off automatically, offering it. Clarke smiles at her and slips it on. “You’re sweet,” she says, and Lexa ducks her head, shaking it slightly.

“Only with you,” she murmurs, and Clarke smiles and reaches out, sliding her hand into Lexa’s. She twines their fingers and Lexa glances at them in surprise, then up to Clarke again.

Clarke doesn’t say anything, she just swings their arms between them and keeps walking. 

They end up on the beach, their shoes discarded, their feet skimming through the surf. Clarke watches the sky and Lexa watches Clarke. “Wouldn’t it be cool to live up there in the stars?” Clarke murmurs and Lexa shrugs.

“I like it right here on Earth,” she says, and Clarke glances over with a small smile.

“That doesn’t surprise me. You seem very grounded.” Clarke turns toward Lexa and takes her other hand, pulling her closer. She lifts both of them and settles them on her own waist before tracing her fingers slowly up Lexa’s arms, watching her. 

Lexa can’t breathe. She just keeps staring at Clarke, fingers flexing against her waist, eyes curious and wary. Clarke’s hands finally find her shoulders, and she brushes her thumb over Lexa’s jaw in the smallest of touches, smiling like she knows something lexa doesn’t. It makes Lexa nervous.

For a minute, they stand just like that, the ocean waves brushing against their calves, the sand shifting beneath their feet, the breeze catching at their hair. Then Clarke murmurs, “Do you want to kiss me, Lexa?” and her heart stops, just stops, before suddenly racing.

“Yes,” she admits, watching Clarke closely. “But only if you want me to.”

In answer, Clarke steps forward and presses her lips to Lexa’s, her hands sliding into her hair. Lexa’s arms wrap completely around her waist as she sinks into her and she thinks, _this is the perfect night_.

And this is the perfect girl.


End file.
